


Shuk'la a Dralshy'a (Broken but Stronger)

by pleasehelpmeimstuckinthefandoms



Series: Ruug'la Tracinya [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adorable Grogu | Baby Yoda, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Canon Compliant, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, F/M, Good Parent Din Djarin, Heavy Angst, Im getting all my din djarin bases checked, Protective Din Djarin, Reader-Insert, Soft Din Djarin, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, With A Twist, everything hurts and i cant stop myself, i seriously need a hug, im in that angst mood and i wanna cry all the time, tags and characters will be updated when needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28811550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasehelpmeimstuckinthefandoms/pseuds/pleasehelpmeimstuckinthefandoms
Summary: Memories filled with the scent of scorched durasteel and blaster fire, sacred iron melting against a canvas of sand and blood and calloused hands slipping against heated skin- stolen moments of considered weakness under silent stars and trembling lips that followed the example.A moment wished to be forgotten but permanently immortalized- etched in your mind’s eye with perfect clarity.And a star winked out of existence in a mere heartbeat.(yes, I changed the summary- I thought this would be more fitting.)
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Series: Ruug'la Tracinya [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097573
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	1. Te Aka (The Mission)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the continuation to my one-shot story in the Ruug'la Tracinya series- please go read that first for this to make sense!
> 
> It's a little shorter than first chapters typically are, but it is the just the setting stage for the storyline and plot- not to be reflected in future chapters! I hope you all enjoy!!

You sighed as you took apart another piece of the hyperdrive, tossing it onto the rolling table- the impact resounding with a metallic thud, “gonna have to replace that.” You murmur to yourself, refocusing your attention on the malfunctioning hyperdrive that had been a part of some ship that Ran had _‘acquired’_.

A loud call of your name roused your attention to the entrance of the garage where Ran was waddling up the ramp toward you, “got a job for the lot of you.”

“I’m retired, old man. You know that.” You answered bluntly, looking back to the hyperdrive and working a few of the damaged connections out of their slots carefully and deposited them on the table with the rest of the parts and scanned for more pieces that needed replacement or repair, depending on their condition.

“You’ll wanna take this one, kid.” You huffed in annoyance but straightened from the dismantled hyperdrive you were working on to hear him out.

The goal was simple. 

Infiltrate the space _Bothan-Five_ inhabited without getting caught by the sensors with five of his best and a sixth nameless party, somehow sneak into the ship, maneuver around the countless security cameras that could give you away to the human bridge operator, avoid the patrol droids on every level, manage to spring Qin while doing all that and make it back to _Roost_ with time to spare. 

Easy, right?

“He’s sloppy, Ran.” You looked at your boss as you snatched an old scrap of material from the table and wiped the grease off your hand before throwing it back down. “You know as well as I do that Qin’s done nothing but cause more problems than brought solutions to the table. I don’t see the reason to spring him- he has nothing to offer, apart from marksmanship and even _that_ is a stretch. I say, let him rot. He did this to himself kriffing around with those Hutt wannabes." You shook your head before continuing, incredulity filling your tone, “and what do you mean a sixth person? What do you need a _sixth_ person for?”

“Look, I’ve got some pieces in play- you’ll see. I need you ready to go back out.” He ordered, plucking a mechanical part of the hyperdrive off the metal table you had carefully placed each article on- throwing it in the air, only to catch it at the last possible second.

You fought back a sigh as he tossed the part up again, only for you to snatch the metal chunk mid descent and slammed it back on the rolling table, the piece leaving smudges of dark grease on your palm.

“What the hell are you up to, Ran?” You growled, pinning him with a dark glare, “I’m not in the mood for your games.”

Ran only smirked, “keep that fire, sweetheart. You’ll need it.” 

You grit your teeth at the endearment but dismissed him with a scoff but continued on working on the hyperdrive. “What I need is a vacation to Scarif and to drown myself in fire-water laying on a sandy beach, but I don’t see _that_ happening anytime soon.”

“Look, kid,” Ran rested his arm on the edge of the hyperdrive, looking down at you, “you’re my best. Almost like an extension of myself-”

“-ew.” You cut in, disgust swirling around your features and Ran sighed in growing frustration.

“Listen,” he rolled his eyes, a lock of curling gray hair slipping in front of his face, “you’re the best I got. I need you on this operation with the others. I’m _not_ asking.” Anger bubbled in your chest and you bit your lip to stop yourself from saying something you shouldn’t. His heavy footsteps started away from you, his smug voice calling over his shoulder, “two porgs, one plasma bolt. You’ll see.”

You only looked up once his steps faded, suspicious eyes flicked to meet his back as he waddled away from you, unruly gray hair swaying with his gait, “pile of bantha _poodoo_.”

(..)

You yawned as you walked in your room, ignoring Xi’an’s annoying giggles floating down the hallway from the living quarters. You raised your arm and slapped the keypad next to you, shutting and locking the door which effectively silenced the Twi’lek’s irritating noises.

A soft _‘reow’_ roused you from your musings and you looked to your bed where your loth-cat unfurled herself from your bed and arched her back to stretch, little face scrunching with the exertion as her wide mouth opened in a yawn.

Sad’ii had passed on a few years back, she had been orange with white stripes, yellow eyes that showed nothing but love and compassion- but that sweet nature was countermanded with her ferocity and protective nature. She was easily provoked when a stranger encroached on her territory and had no qualms with letting them know about it.

Mandi was different, a little more reserved- less likely to claw someone’s face off when they walked into your room. But when you felt negatively in any way- it was like she could sense it and act accordingly. She was a rare colour- completely black with grey stripes going down her body but those familiar yellow eyes looked to you with that same unconditional love that her mother shared for you.

She was different from Sad’ii but a beautiful animal and a wonderful companion all the same.

Mandi’s eyes met yours and she walked to the side of the bed, tail swishing for attention as her ear pricked to the side, “it’s been a long day, Mandi. Ran’s got something up his sleeve, I know it.” You moved to the side where she waited patiently and gave her what she was silently asking for. Your fingers slipped into her soft coat, running over her ears and down her body, tracing the curve of her spine before loosely twisting her tail around your finger before you watched it uncurl and swish once more, “just wish I knew what it was.”

You were tired. So, so _tired_.

With your free hand, you tugged at the chain hidden underneath your tunic, pulling it out to see the small clump of melted beskar that hung around your neck- hidden from the others.  
There was no shape to it, no symbol it represented physically and the rarity and cost of the iron itself interested you little, it was your most prized possession for the story behind how you acquired it in the first place.

It was a reminder. It was a keepsake of a terrible time, a physical embodiment of love and havoc, trials and anguish. A manifestation of the lesson you were forced to experience. 

It was a lesson you never wanted to learn.

You let the clump of cold iron hit your chest and slipped off your stained vest, letting it roll down your arms and on the floor before starting on your tunic. Each piece of clothing fell away until you were left in your underthings that resembled more of threadbare material at this point than any type of modest clothing that could pass for one’s delicate apparel.

You fell back against the bed with a deep groan, narrowly avoiding Mandi as your back hit the thin mattress. The aches of the day settled in each muscle, making them heavier than six camtono’s of pure beskar tied to each of your limbs.

The dark Loth-cat wound herself into a ball at your side- pressed against your ribcage and her tail curled around her folded legs. “I’m exhausted, Mandi.” You whispered to her, confiding your deepest thoughts and emotions into the only living organism you trusted, “exhausted with everything- this _life_ , the constant wondering of my purpose here.” The soft thrumming of Mandi’s loud purrs lulled you into a vacant state.

You were aware of everything and nothing.

The soft creaks of the space station, the trills of Mandi at your side and your calm heartbeat in your ears. Your eyelids felt like they were being weighed down, “is it bad to think that I don’t have a purpose? I think it’s pretty safe to say so.”

You mused, lips catching on the words you attempted to speak- slurring inflections with an exhausted grace, “I mean, every day is the same for me, but inside,” you tapped at your chest lazily before your hand fell against it, laying uselessly over your heart, “nothing’s been the same. It won’t ever be. Not _anymore_. . .” Your voice trailed off, unprompted tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you closed them instantly, willing away the traitorous embodiments of sentiments long passed with a deep, wavering breath.

“ _I wish he was here._ ” Your last statement came out in a puff of air before blessed darkness enveloped you.

Your dreams forever replayed the events that had changed the course and meaning of your world, you were never gifted a reprieve from the dark time you were forced to relive every night.

Memories filled with the scent of scorched durasteel and blaster fire, sacred iron melting against a canvas of sand and blood and calloused hands slipping against heated skin- stolen moments of considered weakness under silent stars and trembling lips that followed the example.

A moment wished to be forgotten but permanently immortalized- etched in your mind’s eye with perfect clarity.

And a star winked out of existence in a mere heartbeat.


	2. An Ruug'la Burc'ya (An Old Friend)

_ “If you could do anything in the galaxy, create a fresh start for yourself, let’s say,” Draek gestured widely, smirking at the crew, “like a complete do-over of your entire life, what would want you to be?” He leaned on his elbow, tugging his jacket tighter around his body, laying on a crate of provisions around the bonfire they’d created on the frigid planet of Alzoc III. “Come on, guys! We’re gonna be here for a while, may as well get to know each other a little better?” _

_ Around the fire and scattered on their own makeshift seats was the Mandalorian, Xi’an, Qin, you and a few others in the crew- the flames burned high in the air but provided the warmth that was absolutely essential in low temperatures as these. _

_ You looked up from your spot on the ground against the crates Draek lounged on, staring up into his twinkling amethyst eyes, unamused, “c’mon! Tell us your deepest desires. You wish for fame? Glory? To be the ruler of a strange exotic planet and are in need of a devilishly handsome rogue to be your partner to rule?” He purred teasingly, wiggling his artificial fingers down at you. _

_ You scoffed and slapped his fingers away, “you wish, nerfherder.” You bundled yourself in one of the blankets you stole off the Razor Crest, sitting on a warm tarp that you'd laid on the ground to keep yourself away from the tundra-like floor. _

_ “I never said me!” You rolled your eyes good-naturedly at his teasing but remained silent and Draek preyed on the other crew members. _

_ You listened to the others, resting your head against the cold plasteel side and watched the stars winking in the sky. _

_ By the time it came to Mando’s turn, Draek stared at the inexpressive helmet and his lips curled into a mocking smirk. You knew that look and dreaded it whenever it graced his features- it always came back to somehow bite you in the ass.  _

_ "Draek, don't." You warned him quietly but your friend took no heed to your advice. _

_ You clenched your jaw, eyes closing in frustration as you heard Draek taunt the dangerous Mandalorian opposite you, “lemme guess, Mando. This is the Way?”  _

_ The Mandalorian’s helmet glinted in the firelight as he turned to face his visor to Draek and the chatter around the bonfire died to silence. Mando didn't answer and you didn't have to open your eyes to feel the dangerous intent radiating off the mysterious warrior.  _

_ Draek shifted forward, his knee barely hanging over the edge of the crate as he met Mando’s intense gaze with his own- the air shifting from the light-hearted ambience to a charged fury between the two.  _

_ You cracked one eye open, spying Draek’s knee hanging over the crate. With a sharp movement of your arm, your palm struck right under the side of his kneecap- the force of the impact sending him tumbling off the crate and onto the hard ground, harshly and with a girlish squeal. Silence reigned around the bonfire, the only sound was the crackling of the wood catching alight and Draek’s groans on the ground.  _

_ There was a soft rasping chuckle and your eyes turned to the Mandalorian, his red cuirass shook almost imperceptibly as he enjoyed Draek’s misfortune at your hands. _

_ Surprise coloured your features at the sound of Mando’s soft laugh. In pure bewilderment, you found that you really liked his laugh. Despite your past conflict and usual apathy toward the helmed warrior, your stomach fluttered as you pictured a featureless face beneath the beskar, twisting with genuine mirth.  _

_ It warmed you and your own lips curled into a smile. The rest of the crew began to follow as Draek pulled himself back over the crate, twigs twisted into his dark locks and a thin layer of dirt caked on one side of his face. Violet eyes turned on you and he glared while you giggled helplessly at his messy predicament. _

_ The hysterics flitting around the bonfire raged for a time and the earlier tension dissolved back to the lighthearted energy you’d all sported beforehand, until the fire started to wane and the wind became colder.  _

_ Everyone had packed up and gone into their respective tents once the snow started to fall once again and you had initially fallen in along with them, retiring to your own tent and layed on your travel cot. Instead of sleeping, your eyes drifted to the ceiling of the tent, your stomach plagued with nerves for the mission tomorrow.  _

Your eyes slowly opened, the chill of Alzoc III evaporating as sleep started to recede and your eyes adjusted to the metal fixtures of your quarters in the space station instead of the beige tarp you had laid under many years ago. 

Your hand slipped underneath your sleep shirt to feel the cool shapeless beskar resting against your clavicle, fingertips tracing the miniscule indents of sand particles embedded in the metal. With a heavy sigh, you rose from the bed, fingers slipping from the beskar to run along the frayed hem of the dark neckline. 

The overly large article of clothing slipped off your naked shoulder as you stood before running your hand through your messy hair and you turned your head back to the cot, bleary eyes taking notice of Mandi still asleep trilling loudly with each breath as her body spread along the mattress where you laid beforehand.

Bare feet padded along the patchwork materials you had sewn together to make a floor covering, your toes dug into the thicker squares of cloth before stepping on a thinner piece and you hissed as the low temperature of the floor bled through the thin material. Huffing in discomfort, you made your way to your private ‘fresher, entering the tiny space just to stop in front of the solid silver basin.

Your eyes slowly looked up to meet their perfect copy in the small, dirty mirror. Dark circles encompassed the delicate skin of your undereyes, hair still messy and wild from your sleep cycle. Your eyes were haunted, the sparkle in them faded- leaving them dull and lifeless. Your lips were turned down and your brow still furrowed in slight discomfort as the cold atmosphere of space caused gooseflesh to pucker the skin of your exposed legs. In an effort to combat the cold, you tugged at the too-long sleeves of the shirt, burying your hands into the warm material. 

The constant tugging of the shirtsleeves forced the neckline to fold into itself. Your fingertips peeked out from the hem of your sleeve to fix your shirt when a hint of a stitch barely poked from the dark material, but the stark white thread was not easy to miss. Your breath hitched at the sight but you forced yourself to take a breath before fixing the neckline, dragging your eyes back to your empty reflection before bending over the sink to splash some water on your face.

“Get it together. You got a job to do.” You growled to yourself. You couldn’t get hung up in the past this time. It was time to go to work.

One last time.

(..)

The Mandalorian pressed the overheard buttons to start the landing gear process and slowly eased the  _ Razor Crest _ through the space station’s hangar bay, sighing at the unwanted familiarity with how he went about the process.

It had been a long time since he’d left Ran’s crew, since he left you after that. . .

. . he couldn’t even stomach the thought of the memory itself. It plagued his every waking hour and his dreams- never allowing for a reprieve.

As he settled the  _ Crest  _ in the hangar, he turned the chair and walked out of the cockpit- meeting the Child in the tiny kitchen where the little green creature played with one of Mando’s old cloaks, the material torn up and shredded, perfect for the Child’s cot and play-time it looked like.

“Hey, kid,” The Mandalorian called, bending to the kid’s level, a small grin working its way up his concealed lips as his big round eyes looked up at the visor, “now, remember what we talked about?” The baby babbled nonsense, tilting his head in confusion and his ears twitched upward in question. The Mandalorian sighed gently before he picked up the kid, tossing the cloak on one of the crates of provisions. “These people are dangerous and I don’t know what they’d do when they see you. I need you to stay here in the cot while I try and figure out a deal so we can at least get some credits. It’s good pay but I’ve never trusted this guy.” His visor tilted down as he looked into the large brown eyes of the child staring up at him- absorbing every modulated word from his caretaker. 

The Mandalorian placed the Child on the thin mattress, giving him one last look before he closed the door and the kid was hidden from view.

His heavy sigh was distorted by the modulator as he stopped in front of the gangway, mentally steeling himself for whatever was about to happen and he pressed the correlating button his vambrace and the ramp started to slowly wind down.

He greeted Ran coldly, the sounds of unremorseful laughter bounced around in his mind and images of busting credit pouches in his gloved hands filled the Mandalorian’s vision as he shook his former employer’s hand and with a great deal of restraint, he willed the visions away. He couldn’t think about that now.

The white noise of saws and metal grating against metal filled his audio sensors, the familiar noises sending him back to his youth, the moments of darkness and arrogance were synonymous with the white noise blaring in his helmet.  He tweaked at his vambrace, filtering the noises out and elevating Ran’s voice to hear his old acquaintance’s plan to spring some worker of his out of the New Resistance correctional transport- apparently he’d  _ ‘run afoul of some competitors’ _ . Fancy way of saying he’d screwed up and Ran wasn’t about to let his operation be taken down in any way, shape or form.

Mando briefly wondered what you thought about the situation.

They’d gone past the garages and he searched each and every face that went passed as Ran peddled his scheme and he met the four he was to be working with. You weren’t there. Where were you? Of course you could have moved on but he highly doubted that, not even after what he  _ did _ .  Ran wouldn’t have gotten rid of you, you were too valuable to his operations and you had always been his favourite. The Mandalorian had never met anyone with a more strategic mind than you, nor the absolute mastery of mechanics that you had- he wouldn’t let someone as irreplaceable as you go if you were in his corner.

But you weren’t. Not anymore.

There weren’t any familiar faces at the space station anymore. He didn’t need to ask what happened to them, he knew the policy. Either they left in the dead of night, or Ran found a way to dispose of what he believed to be loose ends.

But you, _you_ were detrimental to Ran’s success, despite what you always said- ever the humble one in the crew, you’d still be here.

So, where were you?

Did you even want to see him? After what he did, he didn’t think so. Maybe you were in your quarters with Sad’ii, waiting until he left for the mission to avoid him if you knew he was here. He was ripped from his musings to the sound of Ran’s grating voice in his audio sensors, “I’m afraid I have one more surprise for you, Mando.” 

The Mandalorian fought back a growl at Ran’s smarmy tone, his composure officially souring even more after Xi’an’s dramatic entrance and he didn’t think it could get any _ worse _ . “You said there were five.” Mando spat, his visor turned to Ran menacingly.

This whole plan stunk of bantha  _ poodoo _ and he wasn’t in the mood for it.

They stopped in front of the Razor Crest, portside gangway open completely as well as the main hull door, “come on, sweetheart.” Ran called, before turning to Mando to whisper conspiratorially- which meant his whispers could be heard echoing in the space station, “she’s a little shy to see you.”

“That’s not true.” Mando’s heart constricted at the familiar voice and he turned toward where the sound had come from to see you occupying the entrance of the gangway.

_ ‘It’s your fault! It’s all your fault!’ _ The Mandalorian’s fists clenched at the buried memory attempting to resurface, the leather gloves creaked under the strain. He fought back the urge to shake his head and instead watched you descend from his ship.

Your nerf-leather jacket creaked as you moved, crackled and creased, the brown fur lining the collar singed from old missions and clumped with grease. You had tucked your dark undershirt into the tight tactical pants you wore on every mission, hips swaying with each step you took down the gangway ramp and toward him. Your hair was piled atop your head and there was a smudge of grease on your cheek and across the bridge of your nose. Your trusty blaster strapped to your thigh and the hilt of your vibroblade peeked from the side of your boot as you slowly stepped down the ramp and he caught a glimpse of explosive charges wrapped in a holder around the calf of your other leg.

“Mando.” You greeted, hands resting around your hips, chest out and shoulders back- you looked like the epitome of confidence but he could see the nervous darting of your eyes around his form, taking in the new armour and the change in him.

He didn’t exude that arrogance and cockiness he seemed to be made up of all those years ago, he was more cautious of his surroundings now and every move he took was careful- calculated. His fingers twitched toward his blaster with every face introduced to him, except yours.

He greeted you, lips curling around your name with an intimacy that nearly took your breath away.

_ Tanned hands. . .liquid beskar. . .heat licking at your skin. . .your screams drowned out by the roar of heightening flames. . . _

“Been a long time.” You rasped, clearing your throat as you fought the emerging memories and held your hand out for him to take. His helmet tilted down to it and took it, visor-optics scanning the residue of hyperdrive coolant and mechanical grease and his lips curled unknowingly beneath his helm at the familiarity of the concoction that was always a near-constant when he used to run with you.

“It has,” Mando agreed, slackening his hold and you pulled your hands apart slowly, his gloved fingers brushed along the inside of your wrist and palm. You bristled slightly at the touch, unable to handle such a gentle display of sentiment and it was so inherently  _ Mando _ . You fought the urge to snatch your hand back and remained stoic if just to save face, “you look well.” 

“I look like a krayt dragon but, thank you.” You knew how you looked but you gave him points for being cordial. Perhaps more than just his attitude changed in the years apart, he’d softened.

Mayfeld rolled his eyes as they boarded the ship, “you’re late, princess.”

“I was checking the ship, you’ve kept her in good nick. The hyperdrive was under a bit of stress- fortunately I had a few spare parts laying around. I managed to switch the old one’s out, and gave her a second wind so the  _ Crest  _ should run a little smoother.” You barely spared Mayfeld a glance, explaining your work to Mando directly. The Imperial sharp-shooter scoffed at your blatant neglect of his words and stomped up the gangway along with Burg, Xi’an and Zero. "I wasn't about to let _Zero_ attempt any repairs, I know how you are with droids."

The Mandalorian watched your interactions with them carefully- the slight disdainful curl of your lips, the hardening of your eyes as you watched them board the ship and the slight hostile change in your body language.

Mando thanked you politely and said your name again and your attention turned back to him, eyes softening and you couldn’t stave off the fluttering in your chest this time.

He really had changed. 

You nodded jerkily, opting for silence until you were confident you could use your voice and slowly made your way back up, “the armour suits you.” You managed to squeak out before rounding the corner and you disappeared from view.

Mando watched you as you ascended back into the  _ Crest _ before tearing his gaze from you to look at Ran, “forgive the programming of the droid before, he’s a little rough around the edges but he is the best.” 

“How can you trust it?”

Ran smirked and it set the Mandalorian’s teeth on edge when Ran tapped his shoulder, “you know me, Mando. I don’t trust anybody.” The Mandalorian walked up the ramp, turning to face Ran one last time, “just like the good old days, Mando. Huh?” 

Mando’s jaw clenched underneath the helmet and he let out a silent shuddering breath. The old days were a nightmare he never wanted to relive. 

And yet, here he was. Desperate and looking for any means to support the kid- even if it meant digging into his past, into the darkest places he didn't want to go back to.

With barely concealed contempt, he hit the control panel on the side of the ramp and watched as Ran was cut from view.

This was a bad idea.


	3. Haluur (Breathe)

You sat in the cargo hold of the _Razor Crest_ , completely silent, resting your hip against one of Mando’s provisions and bit your lip at the obvious tension filling the room. Your foot tapped against the floor, fingers fidgeting with the piece of nanite tech just under your earlobe as your eyes scanned the occupants in front of you.

Xi’an sat, balancing her blade on the tip of her finger along with Mayfeld as Burg paced around the small space of the cargo hold as Mando watched over Zero as the droid piloted the _Crest_. Burg’s heavy steps set your teeth on edge and you wanted nothing more than to kick him into deep space just to get some peace and quiet from his thundering steps.

“Will you sit down?” Xi’an growled, irritated eyes flicking to Burg who stopped to stare at the Twi’lek. With a growl, he slammed his hands against the roof of the hold to which Xi’an responded with a hiss. 

You rolled your eyes as the Devaronian laughed and moved to play around with the control panel, unable to keep his grubby fingers to himself. You were really starting to regret not fighting with Ran harder on staying back. Feeling the familiar pull of the ship, you shifted your weight to keep steady as the ship jumped into hyperspace smoothly and you fought a grin as you knew the hyperdrive was working to its proper capacity- screw what that googly-eyed droid said.

There was a hiss and the silver doors slid open, revealing Mando’s armoury. “Don’t touch things that don’t belong to you, Burg.” You advised, the hair on the back of your neck prickled with awareness but the Devaronian wasn’t listening, gleefully spying the weaponry neatly placed in the locker, bending to get a closer look. “Burg, enough!” Your heart thudded in your chest as the risk of Burg discharging one of Mando’s firearms and breaching the hull started to steadily increase as did your anxiety levels.

In your alarmed state, you didn’t notice the Mandalorian slipping into the bay- breathing a sigh of relief when the doors closed and locked the Devaronian and his wandering hands out. “You need to relax, grease.” Mayfeld chuckled, lounging in his seat with ease, a picture of tranquility as he gestured airily, “take a deep breath, let loose once in a while. Must be hard to walk with that pole up your ass all the time.”

His smarmy grin made your teeth clench and Xi’an’s grating giggle made your teeth grind against each other but you neglected to comment before he turned to Mando.

Burg growled at the door, moving to touch the panel to the bunk and Mando gripped his arm, stopping him. The tension thickened even more and you watched the beskar-clad warrior challenge Burg as Mayfeld attempted to calm the pair, tuning in halfway. “-so let’s just do this job. We get in, we get out and you don’t have to see our faces anymore.”

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian.” Burg spat, furious eyes never leaving Mando’s visor.

“Well, apparently they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy, so they say.” You could attest to that fact. You’d seen Mando fight, sparred with him on occasion and his prowess was not to be overlooked. He was a skilled fighter, honourable. His guidance on your stance and style had greatly improved your own skill and he helped forge you into the formidable adversary you were today.

"That's because they are. Fabled as fearless warriors that conquered in battle." You answered, picking at a piece of grease against the fur lining of the collar in an attempt to seem disinterested in the conversation.

“Then why are they all dead?” The insensitive comment set your teeth on edge and laughter roused around the crew, you and Mando exempt.

“Well, you two flew with him.” Mayfeld started, conversationally as their laughter died down, “is he as good as they say?”

Xi’an smirked, her eyes flicked between you and Mando before they settled on you- malice glinting in the bluest part of her eye, “ask him about the job on Alzoc III.” 

Your reaction didn’t disappoint. Your whole body stiffened, hands clenched into fists as your eyes took on a mournful sheen. “Kriff it, Xi’an.” You snarled, hiding your frailty with a rage you couldn’t back up anymore. 

Mando kept his helmet trained on Xi’an and Mayfeld but his eyes never left you- watching your reactions, “I did what I had to do.” His own tone was considerably softer, regretful and you flinched at the similar words, this time accompanied by the soft hum of hyperspeed instead of your heartbroken screams.

Xi’an scoffed and raised the hilt of her blade, pointing it mockingly at the warrior, “oh, but you liked it, see I know who you really are.” Her words were filled with insinuation and you bit your lip to stop from lashing out- opting to hold onto the cargo you were leaning against for some sort of stability to ground yourself with instead of ripping your vibroblade from its holster in your boot and embedding into Xi'an.

 _‘You have no idea who he is.’_ You mused silently, viciously.

There was a lot you’d been through with Mando and a lot of it wasn’t good. You’d allowed your own emotions to fuel your interactions with him and it turned out hurting the both of you in the end. Expectations of indulgent moments too high, forbidden meetings incentivised impossibilities that neither of you should have entertained. 

It was a mess.

“He never takes off the helmet?”

“This is the Way.” Xi’an mocked and the man in question remained stoic- unmoved by the sudden attention on him. 

“Hm,” Mayfeld hummed and the air shifted- tensions rose, “I wonder what you look like under there. Maybe he’s a Gungan,” Mayfeld derided, laughter echoing through the crew and you didn’t share in the mirth. You didn’t find any of this amusing. “Is that why, _‘yousa don’t wanna show your face?_ ’” 

_'Definitely not a Gungan.'_ Your traitourous mind whispered and your annoyance manipulated the ferocity of your tone, “cut it out, Mayfeld. Leave him alone.” 

“Why?” Mayfeld turned his sharp eyes onto yours, “you love him or somethin’?” You didn’t miss Xi’an’s sudden rapt attention on you, crystalline eyes shredding your form apart. “You ever seen his face?” He was toying with you- trying to get you to break and you’d be damned if you rose to his bait- or Xi’an’s silent challenge. 

You were being thrown on the same cutting floor as Mando. 

Xi’an turned back to the sharpshooter with one more twitch of her upper lip, showing her sharp teeth to you in a show of dominance that made you roll your eyes and she gasped dramatically, her finger sliding down her left lek, the meaning behind it making you increasingly uncomfortable, “a lady never tells.”

Mayfeld groaned, his gaze returning to the Mandalorian, “c’mon, Mando! We all gotta trust each other, here.” He kept pushing and pushing, until, “let’s all see your eyes.” 

_"I bet they’re beautiful."_

_"Hm? What are?"_

_"Your eyes. I bet they’re beautiful. Expressive."_

_"How do you figure?"_

_“I can feel it. I can’t really explain it, but you seem like the kind of person to have beautiful eyes."_

The words were old, said in a hopeful exchange that would never come to pass. Raw rasped voice mixing with the beskar and it was then you could actually hear that the modulator was a little delayed if one wasn’t close enough to truly hear it.

Snapping yourself back to the present, you grit your teeth in frustration and mentally scolded yourself for allowing your mind to wander. It was dangerous territory and the company you currently kept was not making it easier to let yourself drift into those sacred moments.

It only led you to spiral anyway.

Mayfeld nodded to Burg who instantly took action, reaching for the warrior’s helm, “I’ll do i-” with viper-like reflexes, the Mandalorian caught Burg’s arm and pushed him away, kicking him into the refresher.

Burg stumbled back with a grunt, hands shooting out to the sides to steady himself, fingers digging into the bunk’s control panel and the door slid up- revealing an adorable tiny green creature. Big brown eyes and wide ears coupled with wispy white hair peeked from a familiar set of vibrant squares, knitted together crudely. Shock filled your body, partially for the youngling settled in Mando’s bunk and partially for what the child was swaddled in.

The shreds of fabric ranged through all different types, textures, colours and patterns that you had collected and squirreled away on your missions before adding them to the ever growing rows of mismatched scraps until you had a massive covering that benefited you in the cold space station. 

What you _also_ didn’t expect was Mandi to be there. Her yellow eyes almost glowed as she burrowed herself deeper in the blanket, her tail wrapped protectively around the child.

You moved closer to the bunk, hands on your hips as you looked at your mischievous and somehow resourceful loth-cat. “How in the Maker did you get in _there,_ you little mastermind?” You laughed, unable to fathom how she somehow lugged the covering all the way from your living space to the _Crest_ with nobody realising, managed to enter the bunk and curl herself around the small green creature. 

You were incredibly impressed with her and more than a little dumbfounded.

“What is _that?”_ Mayfeld stepped closer to the pair and his hands outstretched to pluck the baby from the nook. 

Mandi’s body coiled and tightened, lips pulled back to show long rows of sharp teeth menacingly- dark ears pinned back and a yowl sliced through the air, offering one word of caution to the former Imperial sharpshooter who stopped, eyeing the loth-cat warily.

“Mayfeld, watch yourself.” You warned before gently bending in front of the open space, your heart melting at the gentle coos of the creature in front of you and your eyes flicked to the Mandalorian who offered no explanation as you rubbed the space between Mandi’s ears and she calmed instantly and you slowly took the child in your arms, supporting his tiny body in the crook of your arm and you smiled down at him as he cooed happily, clawed fingers reaching to touch your chin.

“You get lonely up here, buddy?” Mayfeld asked and you rocked the child gently, your pointer finger gently running along his tiny button nose. “Wait a minute, did you two make that?” You pinned the sharpshooter with a glare he dismissed, “is that a pet or somethin’?” 

“Something like that.” Mando answered, though you could hear the subtle tremor that nobody else picked up on. He was worried.

“Didn’t take you for the type.” Xi’an commented, stepping into Mando’s personal space and his helmet tracked her movements, fighting the urge to push her back and regain some distance between them, “maybe that code of yours has made you soft.” Her whisper caused shivers to crawl down his spine but Mando stood tall, thankful that his face remained covered or the sneer on his face wouldn’t have been able to be contained or downplayed.

Instead, he turned back to you as Mayfeld looked over your shoulder at the kid, “me, I was never really into pets. Yeah, I didn’t have temperament- patience, y’know?” You rolled your eyes as the ex-Imp continued his life story. Even the child yawned as Mayfeld droned on and Mando couldn’t help the slight smile that tilted his lips at the reactions of the both of you, “I mean I tried, but never worked out. But I’m thinkin, maybe,” Mayfeld reached over, hands reaching down toward the little creature, “I’ll try again, with this little fella.” You slapped his hands away and moved back, cradling the child closer to your chest.

“You want a pet? Go get a Sarlacc. At least when you start to neglect it, it’ll eat you.” You growled, backing away from the sharpshooter and Xi’an hissed at you which had Mandi yowling at the Twi’lek and she dropped from the bunk gracefully. The sleek loth-cat took predatory steps, yellow eyes glowing in the dark hull, never leaving Xi’an as she stopped in front of you, back arched and tail puffed out wide.

 _“Dropping out of hyperspace, now.”_ Zero’s voice sounded over the comms until you felt the ship come to a grinding halt out of hyperspace.

Your legs tangled around each other as you struggled to steady yourself and keep the baby in your arms who whined at the violent jostling, “shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s _alright_.” You attempted to soothe the child, running your fingers along his wide ears but you could barely contain your own anxiousness. 

_“Commencing final approach now.”_ The ship shook with the stress of the forcefulness in which Zero piloted, _“cloaking signal, now.”_ The ship rolled violently and you lost your footing with a yelp and Mandi yowled, slipping across the floor, nails screeching against the metal as she slipped further away. You felt yourself falling backwards and you turned your back to the floor, arms encircled around the baby to protect him and you braced yourself for impact when you felt strong arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you into a unyielding cuirass as you fell to the ground with a mix of pained grunts.

The cold steel dug into your back despite the thick leather jacket you wore, your head hanging over a broad space suppporting your neck while your cheek pressed against something cold, familiar. The green creature protected and forgetting his earlier fear- he squealed and giggled in your arms now that he was safe and raised his little arms in joy.

A grunt slipped from your throat as you tilted your head down slightly only to see familiar vambraces curled around your stomach, gloved fingers flexing against your flesh as your shirt rode up, the neckline bunched around your neck. _“Engaging coupling, now.”_ Your chests heaved in sync and you groaned, rolling off the Mandalorian, _“coupling confirmed, we are down.”_ You got to your feet shakily and checked the child for any scrapes or bruises. The tiny thing simply cooed up at you softly, tiny claws resting against your chin as he babbled at you. “ _And relax.”_

The rest of the crew slowly fixed themselves and Mando stood, muting his helmet to groan as he stood.

He was getting too old for this shit.

You sighed and began to fix your shirt, unaware of the Mandalorian hunter moving forward toward you. You pulled the neckline further out, shaking it to rest back down your body and tuck it back in your pants. He didn’t mean to look; he was just assessing you to make sure you weren’t injured but his breath hitched as he was greeted with the patch sewn into the shirt and his legs suddenly felt like lead and he stopped in his advance. The patch bearing the insignia of the Mythosaur skull- the same as the rest of his clothing.

The physical reminder of how it came into your possession was hard, a flash of bare skin, whispers shared between the walls of the _Crest_ ’s bunk, soft fingers sliding over cool beskar, begging to slip underneath the layers and make contact with untouched skin beneath and glide over it with a delicacy that remained uncharted waters for decades.

What also caught his attention was the same metal that adorned his body, was also resting between your bosom- a small fragment of it melted into an obscure shape. He fought back the blush at seeing such an intimate part of your body- pointedly ignoring the information and instead focused on the metal you wore around your neck. Mando knew what it was, what it signified and it put a chink in the armour surrounding his own emotions and feelings. 

You faced him and hissed at the movement before rolling your shoulder where his cuirass had dug in. “Should I set him back inside?” You asked as your fingers rested against the kid’s little head, gently caressing the soft little hairs at the back of his head. 

He unmuted the helmet with a button on his vambrace, “yes, thank you.” His tone was even, not betraying the swell of emotion he felt and you nodded to him before shuffling awkwardly to the bunk. 

The Mandalorian’s helmet followed you as you walked to the bunk and set the kid down. You turned your head to the cargo and released a sharp whistle and you pat the thin mattress. There was a black streak and you chuckled as Mandi leapt on the mattress and resumed her position around the baby. 

With a scratch behind Mandi’s ears, you shut the door to the bunk while still rolling your shoulder as you turned back to Mando. Your eyes cautiously flicked around his visor, never fully connecting, “thank you, Mando.” 

A silent nod was the only indication you had that he heard and accepted your gratitude.

That was all either of you needed. 

The moment between the two of you was sliced apart with Zero’s tinny voice filtering over the comms, _“commence extraction, now.”_

You were seriously going to mangle that droid.

Xi’an snarled, “that useless droid didn’t even give us a proper countdown!” 

“What do you expect? It’s a droid. It values the success of the mission over the efficiency of our performance.” You sighed, unholstering your blaster to set the charges as Burg threw the plasteel boxes away from the airlock.

Mayfeld clicked the comms, “Z, are you sure they can’t see us?”

 _“The_ Razor Crest _is scrambling our signature and I am inside the prison system. It’s impressive that this gunship had survived the Empire without being impounded.”_

“Just means she’s a tough girl.” You spoke into the receiver, sending a smirk to Mando.

_“I do not follow. This ship is not a living organism and therefore can have no assigned gender.”_

“Zero, it’s not the dark ages. Anyone can be anything without judgement and fear of ridicule and the _Razor Crest_ is all woman.” Mando’s helmet shook from side to side at your deliberate attempt to fry Zero’s circuitry with your words and his incapability to process anything that wasn’t logically sound. 

_“I do not follow.”_ You bit your lip to stop the laughter bubbling inside you and for a moment, the levity took away the tension of the situation. 

Of course, Mayfeld had to insert himself into the conversation, “alright, enough mind-fucking with the droid- we got a job to do. Mando, you’re up.” 

You turned away from Mando, smirk still playing on your lips when a flash of amethyst crossed your sight and your lips slowly slipped back into a frown.

_Right. A job._

You were steadily spiralling.

Coming out of retirement was stupid.


End file.
